


Home Again

by greenwillow



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Light Angst, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: Aelswith and Alfred reconcile after returning to Winchester.
Relationships: Aelswith (The Last Kingdom)/Alfred the Great
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaruruShipsIt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruruShipsIt/gifts).



> Prompt from @marurushipsit, types of kisses, "with a hoarse whisper: kiss me." Set at the end of s1.

Aelswith cannot remember feeling more tired—perhaps after Aethelflaed’s birth, that labor had been particularly difficult. But the fear that she had felt then, knowing her life hung in the balance, had been nothing compared to the fear she’d felt these past few weeks. The near loss of her infant son had been a nearly unfathomable weight upon her heart. She remembers the way her sister’s death had affected her mother, and she thanks God she can continue on without that kind of grief welling up in her soul day after day without end. 

They are alive—all of them—and they are home, and Wessex is saved. Mere days ago she had been sure all was lost. How many hours had she spent in prayer, begging Edward’s life be spared? How many hours that her husband would be spared in battle, that they would prevail over the heathens? She does not know the sum. It had been most of her waking hours, and many when she ought to have been sleeping. While making bread, tending to her children, laying in bed beside her husband, always the same few prayers repeating in her head over and over and over. 

She stands in the children's room, watching the rise and fall of Aethelflaed’s chest, the soft pink flush of her cheeks that comes from being well-fed and able to rest at last. The nurse is holding Edward, rocking him too and fro in her arms as he coos. Aelswith had only that evening allowed someone else to tend to him. She had not been able to bear it until she had nearly collapsed with exhaustion and someone had forced her to sit and eat. Even then, she refused to leave his side.

Edward is sleeping now. The nurse lays in him in his bed and slips away at her nod, but Aelswith lingers. She cannot tear herself away, not yet. 

“I thought I would find you here.”

She turns to see her husband standing behind her. He looks paler and older than he ought, and it pulls at her heart in a way she finds more common of late. 

There had been tension between them for weeks, though recently she had softened enough towards him to speak. Now that they are home again, they had nearly fallen back into their old rhythms. But still she feels a slight coldness towards him, a nagging feeling that she could not forgive his betrayal, however blessed the consequences. 

She cannot believe that Uhtred’s woman had saved Edward’s life, though perhaps God had worked through her hands in some strange way. It had cut her to the bone when Alfred had taken Edward from her arms. She had sobbed harder than ever in her life that night, so forlorn that even Aethelflaed had woken and come to comfort her. The feeling of her daughter wrapped in her arms had only reminded her what she might lose if Edward did not live.

But he had lived, and so had they all. So why did she remain cold?

“I am merely checking on the children,” she says, “I will return to bed soon.”

Alfred nods, stepping a bit closer so he too can see Edward where he lays. 

“I know that you resent me for my choice in the marshes,” he says in a low voice, careful not to wake the children. “I have come to ask for reconciliation.”

That tugs at her heart further, but she bites her lip and will not look at him, eyes remaining fixed on Edward’s tiny arms where they lay above his head. 

“I cannot pretend to understand the bond a mother has with her child,” he continues softly, “but you must know that even such a cold man as myself would have felt his loss severely.”

His voice shakes slightly as he continues. 

“It would have broken me, Aelswith.”

She finally looks at him again, and even in the dim light of the passage she can see that his dark hair has turned a bit more gray at the temples and his face has an additional line or two. The knot in her throat grows and the tears well in her eyes. She knows he speaks the truth, she knows that she could not have saved Edward’d life and that he had done what she could not. 

“It would have broken both of us,” she whispers, and he takes her in his arms and holds her as she weeps. It is a different sort of fit than she has been used to, not one of fear but of relief, exhaustion, the knowledge that she had tasted too soon the mortality that bound them all upon this earth. 

He is stroking her hair, whispering soft things to soothe her. His embrace, so painfully absent from her life these past weeks, feels like the comfort of heaven. 

When the tears subside she pulls back just enough to look at him, still wrapped in his arms. He runs a thumb along her jawline tenderly. His eyes are so soft for her like they had been in those early days, when they were young and in love. 

“You are a good woman, Aelswith, and a better wife. The best mother our children could ask for.”

She smiles weakly, her cheeks stiff as the salt begins to dry upon them. “You, my lord, are becoming quite indulgent in your own age.”

A gentle barb, the kind he is used to from her when they’re alone. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile.

She watches as his eyes dart to her lips, his gaze deepening. 

“Kiss me,” she whispers hoarsely, and without hesitation he does—unrestrained, passionate, without the reservation of any absentminded thoughts or lingering guilt. 

When he pulls back he looks renewed, and that gladdens her heart immeasurably. 

“I am blessed,” she whispers, “to call you husband, Lord King.”

“And I,” he echoes, “to call you wife.”

He takes her hand, and she squeezes it gently.

“Come, let us rest together. The children will be there when we wake.”

She follows him, the joy within her feeling boundless.


End file.
